


Tim Troubles

by The_Devil_In_The_Details_666



Series: All The Batfam BS [57]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd never died, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Jason Todd, Trans Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Devil_In_The_Details_666/pseuds/The_Devil_In_The_Details_666
Summary: Tim Drake is smart enough to know that what he's doing is dumb. He knows. But sometimes dumb decisions are necessary.
Series: All The Batfam BS [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514906
Comments: 4
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest, this is written almost entirely to help me deal with my own dysphoria. And obligatory PSA: Don't bind with bandages. Please don't. It's a very, very bad idea and it's incredibly easy to injure yourself. I speak from experience, it is an extremely bad idea.

Tim knew that what he was doing was dangerous. Knew that he was going to get himself hurt, maybe even killed, if he did it. 

Tim wrapped the bandages a little tighter around his chest and secured them, taking a test breath. The bandages seemed to get tighter, but Tim had no choice but to grit his teeth, pull on the P.E. shirt that he had gotten from school after Daniel dumped milk on him during lunch, and put on a brave face as he made his way towards Wayne Manor. His chest ached and it was hard to breathe by the time he reached the front gates, but Tim forced himself not to fidget as he pressed the button to request entry. Moments later, the voice of Alfred Pennyworth came over the speaker, greeting, “Wayne Estate, please state your name and business.”

Tim swallowed back the pain and fear he felt, remembering all the voice-training lessons he had watched online, and answered, “My name is Timothy Drake. I’m here to talk to Mr. Wayne about his… after-dark activities.”

There was a beat of silence, then the gate swung open and Alfred’s voice ordered, “Please make your way to the front door.”

Tim obediently made his way to the door and raised his hand to knock, then lowered it when the door swung open to reveal the face of Alfred, who wordlessly led Tim through the Manor to a study. Bruce Wayne himself was sitting at the expensive mahogany desk, clearly putting on his Brucie act, and Tim tried to take a deep breath, only to be stopped by the bandages around his chest, his head spinning for a few seconds at the sudden lack of oxygen. Bruce studies him, then gestured to the chair across from him, greeting, “Take a seat, Timothy. Alfred said that you wanted to talk to me about my, ah,  _ nighttime activities _ ?”

His head spun and it was getting  _ really _ hard to breathe, but Tim nonetheless sank into the plush chair and rubbed his sweaty palms on the oversized jeans he had stolen from his dad’s closet, then confessed, “I- I know you’re Batman. That Dick was Robin and is Nightwing now. That Jason is the new Robin.”

Bruce tensed, so slightly that it was almost unnoticeable, and laughed, “Oh, is that silly rumor going around  _ again _ ? Honestly, it’s-”

“I know that Dick’s family were the only ones in the world who could do a quadruple backflip. And I know Robin can do one, I’ve seen him do it, and I- I- I-”

Words failed Tim as his vision started going black around the edges and the vague sensation of motion reaching him as he tried desperately to draw a breath. Bruce looked alarmed at the way that he and his office (or maybe just Tim) were suddenly pitching to the side and Tim had just enough time to think  _ Oh, this can’t be good _ before his shoulder hit something and everything went black. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: There is some transphobia in this, both intentionally and unintentionally, and mentions of conversion therapy. Take care of yourselves, please.

Tim slowly awoke to the sound of Bruce stating, “He’s breathing, but just barely. He’s not running a temperature, either.”

Tim’s chest screamed in agony and he let out a whimper, one hand coming up to claw at his shirt in a futile effort to loosen the bandages. A large, calloused hand covered his and Bruce stated, “It’s okay, Timothy, you’ll be alright. We just need to figure out what’s obstructing your breathing.”

Tim let out another whimper before whispering, “Bandages.”

Bruce was silent for a second before asking, “What bandages? Are you injured? Collapsed lung?”

Tim shook his head and weakly grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it and whispering, “Bandages… around… chest. Too tight.”

Bruce seemed to get the message and gently lifted Tim’s shirt, then cursed under his breath and asked, “Timothy, is it alright if I cut those off of you?”

Tim nodded weakly, desperate for the pain to stop, and felt the cool slide of scissors against his skin before the pressure on his chest eased. Tim gasped for air, feeling tears slide down his cheeks as air rushed into his lungs, and curled into a ball. Bruce’s hand touched his shoulder and Tim flinched as Bruce asked, “I take it Timothy Drake isn’t your actual name?”

Tim took a few deep breaths, wincing at the pain of his ribs, and answered, “It’s the only one that you need to know.”

Bruce looked doubtful and Tim slowly sat up, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks. Bruce studied him and Tim swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat, then stated, “I came to give you something.”

Bruce’s eyebrow rose and he tensed as Tim reached into the pocket of his jeans, then relaxed again when all Tim pulled out was a flashdrive. Tim held it out to him and Bruce took it as Tim stated, “I know you’ve been working on the kidnappings around the Diamond District. I was digging through some of my par- some files and I found that. It’s video footage from one of the companies. It’s on a private server, so you wouldn’t have been able to get it.”

Bruce’s eyebrow rose higher and he asked, “And you’re giving this to me instead of turning it over to the police because?”

Tim shrunk down on himself and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, confessing, “I wasn’t… Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be looking through the files. I wasn’t supposed to know about the camera, either, but… But people underestimate me, so I know all kinds of stuff that I’m not supposed to.”

Bruce studied Tim for a long moment, then sighed and tucked the drive into his pocket. Tim fidgeted with the edge of his shirt again, then hunched down and stated, “I should… I should go.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and Tim stood, taking a moment to steady himself as his head spun. The bandages slid out from under his shirt and Bruce stood as well, picking the bandages up and stating sternly, “Don’t ever do something like this again. You could have killed yourself. You may not want me to know your identity, but this is going too far. It’s okay for you to approach me as a girl if you have more information to bring me.”

Tim bit his tongue, wanting desperately to protest that he was a boy, that he wasn’t doing it because he was trying to conceal his identity, but he knew from experience that words like that brought swift and painful retribution. Instead, he kept his head down and whispered, “Yes sir, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce showed him to the door and Tim declined his attempts to drive him home, making his way down the road. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tim reached home, he grabbed two bags full of ice from the freezer, then went up to his room and laid down, resting the bags against his sore ribs. Tears slid down his cheeks and he closed his eyes, mentally berating himself for being such a baby. He laid still for what felt like hours before the sound of the front door opening jerked him into awareness. In a heartbeat, he was up and stripping, kicking his clothes under the bed and pulling on the least feminine clothing that his parents had bought for him. He pulled his beanie off, letting his hair cascade down his back, and tossing it onto his desk just as his bedroom door opened, revealing Janet Drake. She was holding a black dress bag and crossed the room to hang it in his closet, stating, “Don’t forget the gala tonight, Timothea. I expect you dressed and ready to go by 6:30 sharp.”

Tim fought back the urge to groan and answered, “Yes, Mother.”

Janet looked around his room, wrinkling her nose, then added, “And tidy your room. It’s filthy. Honestly, Timothea, I expected better than this. Are those socks on the floor? You have a hamper for a reason, young lady.”

Tim’s stomach dropped as he realized that his homemade packer was sitting out on his floor, having fallen out in his haste to change, but Janet just clicked her tongue and walked out. The second the door closed, Tim let out a sigh of relief and picked up his packer, tucking it in the back of his drawer. He glanced at the clock, then sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce was in the Cave when Jason found him, frowning heavily at the Batcomputer as he studied a surveillance footage still of a parking lot. Jason leaned on the back of his chair, looking over Bruce’s shoulder, and asked, “Whatcha doin’, B?”

Bruce grunted and zoomed in on the still, then asked, “Do you recognize this area?”

Jason studied the image carefully, eyes catching on a particular piece of graffiti that looked familiar, then leaned forward and answered, “That’s behind that one building, Duke Industries or whatever. The one with the owners who spend practically all their time overseas.”

“Drake Industries?”

“That’s the one. Why?”

Bruce leaned back, looking thoughtful, and answered, “I had an interesting visitor today. A young lady calling herself Timothy Drake, trying to disguise herself as a boy. Even had bandages around her chest to bind and ended up passing out. She knew who we were and provided me with footage of our kidnapper grabbing his last victim. Said that she had been digging around some files that she wasn’t supposed to be looking at and found it. I got the sense that she may have been looking for something else and stumbled across it.”

Jason stared at Bruce, then asked, “She knew who we were?”

“Yes. Said that she figured it out because Dick did a quadruple somersault. She seemed quite intent that I not know her true identity. In fact, I suspect that she gave me the last name Drake only to draw my attention to Drake Industries.”

He pulled up security camera footage from the gates that showed a vaguely familiar-looking kid in a blue Gotham Academy t-shirt and gray beanie. Jason hummed thoughtfully, then stated, “Y’know, I think there’s a girl at my school named Timothea Drake. Never talked to her, but I remember she went missing for like the last two months of last year before showing up again this year. Rumor around the school was that she was in a mental institute after she got into a screaming match with one of the vice principals. Kid looks a lot like her.”

Bruce grunted thoughtfully and made quick work of breaking into Gotham Academy’s student database, quickly pulling the file for Timothea Drake. She was identical to the kid in everything but hair, which could easily be hidden by her beanie, and Jason leaned forward, then jumped when Dick’s voice called from the top of the stairs, “Hey, B, the Commish is on the phone! He wants to talk to you!”

Bruce stood, heading up the stairs, and Jason slid into the chair, reading through the guidance notes for Timothea Drake. The notes described her as quiet and reserved, but Jason felt his stomach sink as he read the last part of the notes. 

“Ms. Drake has expressed a desire to wear the male version of the school uniform on multiple occasions; however, requests have stopped following her removal from school and her enrollment in a correctional program with the Second Hope Institute of Training last year.”

Jason knew about S.H.I.T., as it was referred to amongst street kids. Practically every LGBTQ kid in Gotham did. The place was the most well-known conversion camp in the area, located just over the Pennsylvania border, where it was legal, and was known for its brutal ‘training’ that included electroshock, whipping, and even forced ‘students’ to strip naked in front of their peers for certain punishments. The place was a hellhole and Jason still had nightmares of his week there before he escaped, a hellish week of beatings and shaming and punishment after punishment after punishment. Jason felt bile rise in his throat as he connected the dots in his head, dots that painted a horrific picture. Bruce’s hand touched his shoulder and Jason nearly jumped out of his skin, realizing with a start that his cheeks were wet as Bruce asked, “Jay? Is everything alright?”

Jason swallowed back the bile and answered, “I think- I think Timothea Drake may be trans.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he asked, “What?”

Jason scrubbed the tears off of his face and gestured to the screen, stating, “Second Hope Institute. It’s- Fuck, B, that place is a fucking nightmare. It’s a conversion camp. Guidance notes said Drake wanted to wear the boys uniform, but stopped asking after going there for a few months last year.”

Bruce looked almost as nauseous as Jason felt and shooed Jason out of the chair, sinking into it before determinedly stating, “Alfred wants you upstairs. I need to do some research.”

Jason retreated upstairs and began plotting, recalling the uniform sizing information in Drake’s file. Drake’s chest size wasn’t much smaller than Jason’s had been when he’d gotten his first binder and he was pretty sure he still had it stuffed in the back of his closet. All he had to do was figure out how to get it to Drake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason had forgotten about the big gala to celebrate… something, right up until Alfred was holding his hanging suit and ordering, “Master Jason, it is time for you to be getting ready.”

Jason took the suit and retreated to get dressed, considering how to approach Drake with the binder. Then he headed down to the ballroom as the first people started arriving. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely even noticed people talking at him and Bruce until a woman’s voice stated, “And this is my daughter Timothea.”

The name snapped Jason out of his thoughts and back to reality, where he found himself staring at Drake, who was dressed in a gray dress and looking distinctly unhappy. Jason bit his tongue in shock, then, to Drake, stated, “We go to school together.”

Drake looked startled at actually being spoken to and Bruce suggested easily, “Jason, why don’t you and Timothea go get something to eat while us adults talk?”

Jason took the out without a second thought, offering his arm to Drake like he had been taught. Drake took his arm and Jason led the way over to the buffet table, then out to the balcony once they had both gotten plates of food. The balcony was empty and they ate their cheese cubes in silence for a few minutes before Jason blurted, “So, uh, Bruce told me that you know who we are.”

Drake froze, eyes going wide, and Jason decided that, since he was already putting his foot in his mouth, he may as well put it all the way in.

“I’ve got a chest binder that should fit you, if you want it.”

Drake gave a strangled noise and Jason hunched down, mumbling, “Shit, I’m sorry, that was stupid, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that, dammit, I’m sorry., I-”

“I- I’d really appreciate that.”

Jason looked up at Drake, who was a very cute shade of red, and Jason smiled, then asked, “What pronouns do you use? And what name?”

Drake smiled shakily, then answered, “He/him. And Timothy. Just Tim is fine, too. Just… Not around my parents, please.”

Jason grinned, stating, “Nice to meet you. I can bring you the binder tomorrow at school. Wanna meet in the library before class?”

Tim’s smile grew, then slid off when a female voice behind Jason asked, “What binder are you bringing to my daughter?”

Jason turned on his heel to face a dark-haired woman he recognized as Tim's mother, then lied through his teeth, “The binder with all my math notes. I was hoping Timothea could look through it and help me out with some of the stuff I’ve been struggling with.”

Tim’s mother nodded, then stated with a hint of ice, “I see. Timothea always has been gifted in mathematics.”

Jason shot a look at Tim, who looked incredibly relieved, and answered, “So I’ve heard. I’ve always been partial to English, myself.”

Tim’s mother gave Tim a critical look that made Tim tense up, then turned to leave, commenting, “Timothea, I’ll leave you to make friends. Behave yourself.”

Then she headed back into the ballroom and Tim relaxed, whispering, “Thanks for covering for me.”

Jason shrugged and answered, “No problem, Tim. Though, on the subject of mathematics, I don’t suppose you’re any good with algebra?”

Tim smiled at that and answered, “I’m not half bad. And helping tutor you would certainly lend credence to the lie.”

Jason grinned and asked, “I’ll meet you at 7 in the library tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”


End file.
